Of Apple Wood and Wolves
by Ell Roche
Summary: Following the Triwizard Tournament, Umbridge doesn't send Dementors after Hadriel Potter; she sends Fenrir Greyback.


Title: Of Apple Wood and Wolves

Pairing: Remus Lupin/Girl!Harry Potter

Warnings: AU, age disparity (35/15), violence, character death—not main character, drama, and werewolf!Hadriel.

Note: This is sort of a repost. Details are in my profile.

* * *

"This day couldn't possibly get any worse," Hadriel grumbled to herself as she fled from Dudley's gang. The turn onto Magnolia Crescent was so sharp that she was faintly surprised she hadn't given herself whiplash. As if the past few months hadn't been horrible enough: Cedric's death, Voldemort's return … her friends' apparent abandonment of their four-year friendship.

Hadriel shoved the last thought away roughly, refusing to allow it to occupy her mind another moment. True, Ron had been a right prat last year with the whole Triwizard Tournament, but Hadriel figured they had resolved that months ago. Apparently she was wrong, once again. The vague and dodgy letters aggravated her more than Malfoy ever could.

Hair all along her body stood at attention, rising off her skin. A shiver raced down her spine. Hadriel skidded to a stop, ignoring the shouting of Piers Polkiss; the berk wasn't on Magnolia Crescent yet, and he had never set Hadriel's senses off like this.

Eyes swinging left and right, she turned slowly. Her sweeping gaze didn't turn up anything unusual, but Hadriel had never been foolish enough to ignore her instincts. Professor Lupin—Remus, as she had earned the privilege of calling him—had informed her that a witch's instincts linked directly to her magic. Only a dunderhead would ignore a magical warning. And, despite Snape's numerous and vociferous claims, Hadriel _did _possess a brain.

Before she could blink, a hulking figure leaped from the rose bushes in Mr. Dalton's yard. Hadriel jerked away from the threat, but couldn't tear her eyes away from ice-blue eyes and gray hair. However, the emotion in the blue eyes was what held her captive: a malicious need to cause pain. They so resembled Voldemort's red eyes that she flashed back to the graveyard for just a moment.

It was a moment too long.

Strong fingers curled around her throat and slammed her into the six-foot fence that encased Mr. Dalton's property. She kicked her legs, but the blows had no effect on her attacker. Hadriel could hear someone's cry of shock, and turned her head painfully to see Dudley and his gang slam into each other as they ceased running upon turning the corner and catching sight of Hadriel's predicament.

"Ah, friends of yours, Potter?" The voice was rough, harsh, like gravel shredding the skin off her knees.

"We ain't friends with that freak!" Piers yelled, rat-like face twisted into a grimace.

Black spots started to spread across her vision. Hadriel inhaled deeply—or tried to—without success. The callused hand squeezed her neck more tightly.

"Is that true, Potter? Does someone not like the Girl Who Lived?" Thin lips twisted in a mocking smirk. "Oh, wait, I forgot . . . no one likes you at the moment." The man threw his head back and laughed; it sounded like breaking glass.

Noticing the distraction, she took advantage of it despite the pain it caused her. _Run_, she mouthed at Dudley. She didn't like her cousin—though hate would be too strong of a word—but that didn't mean she wanted anyone else to die. There had been enough deaths lately.

The disturbing laughter faded away when Dudley and his friends turned and high-tailed it in the direction they had come from.

After sparing a brief glance at the retreating boys, blue eyes narrowed on her. "What do they call you now? Ah, yes, I remember. The Girl Who Lies." He licked his lips and loosened his hold the slightest bit, not that Hadriel could wiggle free.

"I'm not a liar," Hadriel gritted out, ignoring the painful rasp of her abused throat. "He's back."

"Of course he is," the man spat. "Everyone who possesses any real power knows that." He leaned forward and inhaled deeply, eyes alight with unholy pleasure. "You smell of fear."

Ignoring the inane comment—who wouldn't be afraid while being strangled?—Hadriel inched her hand toward her trouser pocket. Her attacker was obviously from the wizarding world, and he had already proven that Hadriel would be unable to escape using physical force. That left magic. Possible expulsion from Hogwarts couldn't be worse than death.

Her parents hadn't died to protect a coward who would forfeit her life, after all. No. Hadriel Potter was a Gryffindor to the bones and she refused to let the word 'surrender' mean anything to her. "You smell of filth," she hissed. The hand tightened its grip, but she couldn't focus on that. The comment had served its purpose; the man was distracted and didn't notice that Hadriel's hand slid toward her pocket.

"People like you make me sick!" the man snarled, baring stained teeth. Hadriel wouldn't be surprised to hear that the man had never heard of a toothbrush.

"People like me?"

"People who allow others to shape and mold their power. I can feel it in you. I never understood why he attacked a whelp, but now it makes sense. Potential threats should be destroyed before they can challenge those in power." A sharp fingernail that resembled a claw pressed into her cheek, cutting it lightly. She felt a drop of blood slide down her face.

"Oh?" Hadriel clenched her jaw and stretched her fingers. Almost there!

"She wanted me to discredit you." The smile that stretched those thin lips was macabre and sent a shiver down Hadriel's spine. "I could smell the disgust on her as she looked at me; a pathetic witch daring to show disdain for the most powerful werewolf in Britain!"

Hadriel's hand froze as those words resounded in her head. This couldn't be . . .

"I almost killed her. I wanted to tear out her throat, but I didn't. Not when I heard you were the target. _He _escaped me, Potter. No one leaves my pack."

"You're—"

"Fenrir Greyback," the man said with a manic look in his eyes.

_Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards._

Hadriel gulped as Remus's words replayed in her mind. The hand on her throat was so tight that she could barely breathe now, the edges of her vision having long lost the battle against black spots.

"You bit Remus." The statement barely passed her lips, but she punctuated it with a kick to Fenrir's thigh. The werewolf merely snarled at her and shifted his stance, pinning Hadriel to the fence with his entire body, disallowing her the ability to move her legs at all.

"Don't say his name." Fenrir's hair fell forward, shielding his eyes. It only made him appear more threatening. "His father . . . the cub belonged to me. I gave him the honor of being turned and he rejected it." Spittle flew forward and struck Hadriel in the face, but she didn't flinch. She didn't want this monster's attention focused entirely on her. "But he stays with you. Consorts with you. I can smell him on you—as faint as it is. Traitor."

Hadriel had to bite her tongue to keep herself from spewing words in Remus's defense. The kindly werewolf had always treated her with respect and never like the cursed Girl Who Lived. Not many people acted like Hadriel was a normal person, and she treasured each one who did. Besides, it's not like she had the strength to defend anything at the moment.

The slight headache bloomed into a migraine worse than any she'd had before.

"In his eyes, you're better than me. I won't leave it that way. I'm going to destroy your perfect _humanity_." He sneered the word, spat it the same way Malfoy said 'Mudblood'. "Let's see how much he likes you when you're a werewolf, too."

Horror tore through her as Fenrir's facial muscles starting changing; they stretched, shifted, moving beneath his skin to reattach themselves in different places. Impossible! Werewolves could only change during the full moon; at least, she thought that was the case. Why hadn't she done that blasted essay Snape assigned?

The need for subtlety vanishing, Hadriel's hand dove into her pocket and yanked out her wand. What could she do? What would hurt a werewolf? Silver—right? Jagged teeth sped toward her neck. In desperation, Hadriel took a gamble. Please, be silver. _Expecto Patronum_! She knew the words didn't leave her mouth, but her magic reacted to the command anyway.

Hadriel felt Fenrir's teeth pierce her shoulder; agony ripped through her. She waited for the monster to jerk backward and then tear out her throat, but that didn't happen. The hand circling her throat loosened a little at a time until Hadriel fell to the ground, bruising her bum. She coughed and inhaled deeply, desperately trying to feed her oxygen-starved brain.

Something wet hit her cheek. As she glanced up, sound inundated her. She could hear the painful rasp of each breath she took, the pounding of feet turning the corner, and the agonized groan that fell from Fenrir's bloody lips.

Prongs had skewered Fenrir from behind, horns emerging through his chest.

Blood dripped off the ends of the silver antlers and onto Hadriel's face.

A hysterical laugh resounded in her head—at least, she thought it did. It might have flowed from her lips. Cries that sounded very similar to her name accompanied the racing footsteps, but she tuned them out. Another death. Oddly enough, she couldn't bring himself to regret this one.

Fenrir Greyback wasn't human; he was a monster. And he had hurt Remus.

Her only regret was that the representation of her beloved father was responsible for killing someone—not just scaring away Dementors. "Sorry, Dad," she slurred. "I didn't mean to make you a killer. But you died to keep me alive . . . so you'd want me to keep living, right?"

Large hands pressed a cloth of some kind to the bite wound on her shoulder.

"Hadriel? Stay with me, Hadriel!"

Hadriel coughed violently, barely registering the feeling of magic surrounding her neck. Merlin, that hurt! Her blood felt like it was on fire. Why was that? A cold nose pushed into her hand, and she patted the black dog idly.

"Y'know, you look like Snuffles. I love Snuffles," she said deliriously. "But I don't think he'll love me now." Tears pricked at Hadriel's eyes. The dog growled and swiped its tongue across her hand.

"Why would you say that, Hadriel?"

That sounded like Remus. But it couldn't be him, because this was the Muggle world. "I made my dad a killer," she rasped, as if confessing the most horrid secret. "Think Dad hates me now?"

The hands stilled and more wet stuff fell on her face. It smelled like salt instead of sickly-sweet.

"No. I think he'd be proud you survived."

That would be nice . . . but it couldn't be true, could it? "Really?"

"Yes."

"Even though I killed someone?"

"Yes."

Her lips trembled and her eyes closed, pushing tears out to stream down her cheeks and wash Fenrir's blood away. "Even though I'm going to be a werewolf?"

The arms holding the cloth shook before moving to enfold her against a lightly muscled, but definitely masculine, chest. "Yes. Prongs will always love you, Hadriel. No matter what happens."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Hadriel felt her shoulders drop; she ignored the biting pain of the wound and patted her comforter on the back. "That's good. Um, if Remus shows up, tell him not to touch Prongs, okay?" Hadriel mumbled as the blackness ate at her vision once again. "I made him from silver. Got to keep him safe."

She heard someone speaking, but it was unintelligible at this point. She watched Prongs vanish, dropping Fenrir's perforated and very dead corpse to the sidewalk. Good, Remus would be safe when he arrived. Hadriel sent a silent thank you to her dad, no longer fighting the call of sleep. Just before her eyes closed, she swore she glimpsed a flash of amber.

* * *

"What happened?"

"Hadriel got attacked by . . ."

Bits and pieces came to her as she lay in bed. Words that had passed into her memory without gaining her full attention. There was crying—a lot of crying. And fear, she distinctly remembered smelling fear and pain. Or perhaps it was suffering? She wasn't entirely sure; she had never been able to smell emotions before now.

Very little stood out with startling clarity. She recalled warmth, living heat surrounding her until she slept easily. And a mix of apple wood and horses—a wand? Soft murmuring and long, gentle fingers combing through her hair. Someone had obviously been in her bed.

The door opened almost silently, but she heard the barest hint of a squeak. Regardless of any attempts at stealth, her visitor couldn't avoid the numerous floorboards that creaked. A source of heat she hadn't noticed shifted at the end of the bed, and a soft growl filled the air.

Inhaling deeply, scents overwhelmed her for a moment. Dog—Sirius. Old books—Hermione. Broom polish—Ron. But the apple wood was gone. Why was it gone? It couldn't be gone!

Hadriel shot up in bed, sheets and blankets falling to pool at her waist. She clenched the bedding in her fists, twisting them so sharply that they began to tear.

"Hadriel, you're awake!"

She lifted her hands and ran them down her face, ignoring her visitor, who most certainly didn't smell of apple wood. Flowers, all wrong. She felt Sirius shifting against the footboard, but paid him no mind. Her godfather would surely understand that she had to find the missing smell. Someone was gone, and she _had _to find him. Him? Shaking the erroneous thought away, Hadriel pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes and focused all her attention on sifting through the scents in the room.

Mold—fading. Slightly stale air. The scent of horses and apple wood rose from the sheets as she squirmed a bit. Hadriel rolled over and buried her face in the bedclothes, ignoring the questions the girl kept asking. They didn't matter. There! Chocolate, sweat, and wolf—but not hers. The thought made her freeze as memories of—yesterday?—flashed before her eyes. Her hand flew to her shoulder and caressed the bite mark. It had already scarred over. How long had she been unconscious? Impressions of fiery agony flittered into her consciousness and then vanished.

"How long?" she croaked. A glass of water was thrust into her hand and she downed the contents. "Thanks."

"Five days," Sirius answered. He reached forward and ruffled Hadriel's hair. "We thought we might lose you," he whispered, lips trembling.

Hadriel focused on her godfather. It appeared that the progress Sirius had made last year to get healthier had been reversed. His cheeks were slightly sunken again, and the skin beneath his eyes was a mass of bruises. His hair was lank, somewhat greasy, and a total mess.

"I'm fine." She leaned forward and pulled Sirius into a hug. Then, realizing she could see Sirius clearly, she asked, "What happened to my eyes?"

"Professor Lupin said that lycanthropy . . ."

Whatever else Ginny might have said didn't register, because that was the answer to her puzzle—the link that had been missing. Remus smelled of sweat, chocolate, apple wood, and wolf. A growl ripped from her throat before she could stop it, not that she would have, scaring Ginny enough that she jumped a foot into the air.

"Where is he?"

"Who?" Sirius asked.

"Remus." Hadriel threw the covers off the bed and got to her feet, only slightly shocked to see that she was significantly taller than before. Merlin, she had to be almost six foot, surpassing Hermione by inches.

Ginny squeaked, flushed red, and clapped her hands over Sirius's eyes.

Sirius laughed, a happy barking sound, and prodded the hands over his eyes. "Put some trousers on, Hadriel. You're embarrassing the virgin maiden."

"Don't look at her you flea-bitten—" Ginny started, eyes narrowed in a glare.

"I don't think of her like that," Sirius snapped as he pulled away from Ginny and passed a pair of jeans to Hadriel. "She might as well be my daughter." He shrugged. "Besides, I've been in here all week, and I've seen it already."

"Where. Is. Remus?" Hadriel snarled, enraged that her question had been ignored by her companions. The unmistakable urge to find Remus and ensure his safety grew with each passing moment. Her inner-wolf prowled through her skin, agitation increasing.

"Hogwarts," Sirius answered, eyes wide with shock. "Dumbledore sent him to get—"

Hadriel vaulted over the bed, chest rumbling with anger. Remus had left—left! The thought was accompanied by an overbearing feeling of betrayal. But what's more, the Headmaster had sent him away. No one had the right to send Remus away from her, not even Dumbledore.

"Hadriel?"

Ignoring Ginny, Hadriel raced down the hallway and stairs. The house was unfamiliar, but that didn't matter; she could smell the fireplace. She followed the scent of smoke and flames down to the lowest floor. After pushing the door open, she noticed it was the kitchen. People, both familiar and not, surrounded the large table. Platters and plates of food lay on the table, making her mouth water, but couldn't distract her from her task.

"Hadriel! Finally!"

"Blimey, mate! We thought you'd never wake up!"

"Feeling all right? You look a might peaky."

Dumbledore stood up and smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling fiercely. "Hadriel, my girl, it's wonderful—"

Just as Hadriel was about to leap across the room and shove the Headmaster into a wall, the flames flared green and Remus stepped through. Hadriel's eyes shot to him and devoured him hungrily. The wrinkles on his face were gone, replaced by smooth skin. His hair was a light brown, all traces of gray having vanished. And his amber eyes, Hadriel remembered them clearly. Remus had come to save her. Merlin, he was beautiful.

She registered all of this in three seconds, and it softened her anger—but not by much. Hadriel stalked over to Remus, grabbed his arms, and shoved him against the nearest wall.

"Hadriel! What are you doing? Don't hurt—"

Though she wasn't gentle, she did make sure she didn't injure Remus. She never wanted to hurt him. "You left." The words were growled, vicious, but the tone was unable to mask the sheer anguish they conveyed. Remus had left her. Her _mate _had left her.

Remus's eyes widened, and then he lowered his gaze and tilted his head to the side, baring his neck. "Sorry. I went to get books to help you."

The inner-wolf stopped pacing and inhaled deeply, then rumbled and settled down. Hadriel buried her face in Remus's neck. She licked the pale skin, tasting the sweat. Sighing, she leaned her forehead on Remus's shoulder. "You can't leave me, Remus." Instinct told her she would go insane if Remus left.

Strong arms folded around her, pressing her more tightly against Remus. She still wasn't close enough. "I won't." Truth.

"They've gone mental!"

"Hush, Ronald."

Hadriel licked up Remus's neck and sucked his earlobe, nipping it lightly. She breathed across the damp skin and smirked at the response the action garnered. She could smell desire wafting off her mate, and she could feel the stirrings of interest in her stomach. Still, this wasn't the place. "You're mine," she breathed in Remus's ear.

"Yours."

Nuzzling her nose across Remus's cheek, Hadriel reluctantly pulled away. She laced her fingers with Remus's and led them over to two empty chairs at the table.

"That was, without a doubt, the most nauseating thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life," Snape said, lips twisted in blatant disgust.

Remus flinched at the words, and Hadriel glared at Snape with more hatred than she had ever felt in the man's presence. "You must not have ever looked in a mirror," she drawled, mimicking Malfoy's tone to perfection.

Sirius threw his head back from his place in the doorway and bellowed his laughter; it echoed in the room, causing others to lose their battle against laughter.

"You insolent, little—"

"Hadriel," Dumbledore interjected, "that's no way to treat a professor. Professor Snape deserves your respect." He frowned and tugged his beard as he peered disapprovingly over his half-moon spectacles at Hadriel.

Hadriel poured two glasses of water and set them before Remus and herself. She didn't bother to spare the Headmaster a glance as she said, "I'm not in school. Right now, he's just someone in the same room with me. Besides, respect must be _earned_, sir, and he's never managed that."

"I don't think that's—"

"I don't care," Hadriel bit out. She glared up for a moment, and then returned to her task of choosing foods for Remus and herself.

"Babying the wolf, now?" Snape sneered. "Does your pet need you to feed it?" His yellow teeth glinted in the light. The fork in Hadriel's hand bent. "But then again, you're as filthy as the wolf now. I wonder what your adoring public would think if they knew—"

"Shut up." Snape fell silent, eyes slightly wider than before as he stared at Remus. Hadriel glanced to her right to see Remus's eyes glinting gold. The snarl twisting his features was unlike his usual kind expression. "If you call Hadriel 'filthy' again, I'll finish what I started twenty years ago. And it won't be an accident this time."

Snape paled and pushed away from the table. "Potter, keep your pet—"

Hadriel slammed her hands on the table, sending cutlery skidding to the floor. "I don't know what he's referring to, but right now, I'm sure you deserve it. For a Slytherin, you're not very cunning. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut."

"Remus, Hadriel, I really think—"

"Stay out of this, Albus," Sirius said. His lounging position had shifted, promoting optimal ability to dodge and cast curses. "No one's going to threaten Hadriel or Moony in my home."

Snape stiffened his back and edged around the table. He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames. Hadriel didn't take her eyes off Snape until the flames whisked the bastard away. If only he had taken the scent of dead plants with him.

"Was that entirely necessary, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"'Course it was!" Ron hollered, sending bits of food flying through the air.

"That git—"

"Professor Snape, Ron," Molly corrected with a shake of her finger.

"You can't seriously expect me to respect him after what he said about Hadriel and Professor Lupin!" Ron yelled as he jumped up from his seat, sending it crashing to the floor. "Hadriel's life's bad enough without Snape making it worse!"

"Ronald, I—"

"We couldn't even write her," Hermione bit out. Her hands curled into balls, nails gouging the finish on the table. "Don't tell her anything. It's dangerous," she repeated mockingly. "And getting attacked by Fenrir Greyback isn't?" She glared at McGonagall and Dumbledore, shocking Hadriel. Hermione was back-talking their Head of House and Headmaster for her! "How is she supposed to protect herself if she doesn't know what's after her?"

"She's just a girl!" Molly snapped, hands perching on her ample hips. "She doesn't need to—"

"What, survive?" Sirius asked cuttingly. "In case you haven't noticed, my goddaughter almost _died _less than a week ago. But then, what does the insane convict know?" The sneer on his face outshone anything Hadriel had ever seen on Snape's.

"I know," Molly whispered, tears pooling in her brown eyes. "I love Hadriel, too."

"Then don't hold her back," Hermione replied. "We can't protect Hadriel from everything. I think the last week has shown us that quite clearly." She sniffled. "Besides, there's no reason for her to fight."

"What do you mean?" Hadriel asked. No one had ever asked her if she wanted to fight in a war; if they had, they would have received an unequivocal 'no'. However, she had still been willing to battle Voldemort, if only to save her friends. The nameless and faceless wizards and witches who cowered instead of standing up for themselves—they didn't matter, not really. Not to her.

"You're a werewolf now," Hermione said, as if that explained everything. It didn't.

"And?" Hadriel locked gazes with her, waiting for her to expound, as she always did.

Hermione sat straight in her chair and waited for Ron to right and reclaim his seat before beginning. "Werewolves are only bound to those whom they choose to accept, as evidenced by the change in your scar. If you look, you'll find that the link with Voldemort has been severed."

Hadriel grasped a spoon and lifted it, staring at her upside-down reflection. The scar was still there, yes, but it was a thin silver line now, not the usual red, enflamed ridge. Hadriel reached up and touched her forehead; she could barely feel the scar now, where before it had been prominent.

"Miss Granger, that's pure supposition." Dumbledore frowned down the table at her.

"It's fact," she replied.

Shrugging, Hadriel turned to face Remus. "Is there any way to find out?" She would like to know. Ron, Hermione, and she had theorized in the past that Voldemort might have some link to Hadriel through the scar, but they had found no way to prove or disprove it.

"Miss Granger—"

"You can call me Hermione, professor," she said with a smile.

"I'm no longer your professor, Hermione," Remus said. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve for a moment. "You may call me Mr. Lupin, if you wish."

"Or Moony!" Sirius called from the doorway as he sauntered toward an available seat. "Or wolfie. Chocoholic. Hadriel's piece of smoking hot—" Sirius coughed when Hadriel glared at him. "Mr. Lupin works. Carry on," he said with an ostentatious wave of one hand.

"Remus?" Hadriel prodded, now that she had gotten the situation back under control—for the most part. It was hard to control anything with two Marauders and a room full of Weasleys.

"Hermione is correct. The link between Hadriel and Voldemort has been destroyed," Remus said. Hadriel rolled her eyes when the older generation flinched, but didn't comment on it.

"How can you tell?" Ginny asked. "We didn't even know there was a connection." Her eyes held a combination of curiosity and accusation.

"I have long believed such a connection existed," Dumbledore admitted. He stared down at the table, refusing to meet Hadriel's eyes. "I could not find a way to sever such a link without Miss Potter's death."

"You were going to let Hadriel die?" Ron yelled, face turning so red that his freckles looked white.

"That's what it sounded like to me," Fred muttered from his seat beside George. The twins had been oddly silent and observant throughout the conversation. "Is that what you heard, George?"

"Yeah, Fred, that's what I heard."

Sirius moved so quickly that it appeared as if he had Apparated from his seat to just behind Hadriel and Remus. He wrapped his arms around them possessively and glared at Dumbledore. "You were going to sacrifice Hadriel for the greater good." It wasn't even a question; it was a statement that couldn't be refuted.

"Yes," Dumbledore whispered. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and ran down his wrinkled cheek to settle into his beard.

Hadriel jerked backward at the confession, thoughts speeding through her head faster than a Firebolt. Dumbledore had been prepared to sacrifice her to stop Voldemort. In a horrible, abstract way, it made sense. One child weighed against thousands of lives, the scales were unequal. But Hadriel wasn't on her side of the scale alone, and Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that. Surrounding Hadriel were her parents, the Longbottoms' sanity, twelve years of Sirius's life, and almost three decades of Remus's loneliness and suffering. In Hadriel's eyes, those held more weight than anything.

She glanced down the table, eyes fixing on Ron and Hermione. She saw Ron holding onto the life-sized knight chess piece, knowing that the blow might kill him, but still braving the path as Hadriel's knight. She saw Hermione lying in a hospital bed, petrified, clutching the piece of paper that would save them all.

Denying Dumbledore was a great wizard would be foolish, but calling him near-sighted wouldn't be incorrect. The Headmaster had—Hadriel would have died.

"My parents never would have forgiven you," she whispered.

Dumbledore winced. "I know."

The scent of apple wood drifted upward, catching Hadriel's attention. Remus's hand was clenched around his wand, knuckles white from the pressure. Honestly, Hadriel was surprised it hadn't snapped. She didn't have that fine of control yet, but Remus had spent decades practicing his control. Hadriel could only imagine how hard it must have been without having his mate or an alpha to guide and protect him. The full moons would have been excruciating. She shoved the resurfacing memory of third year as deep into her mind as she could. Her mate would never suffer like that again. She was here now.

Hadriel curled her hand around Remus's, brushing her thumb lightly over the smooth skin.

"I want you to break it," Sirius ordered. A glance up showed that Sirius was, well, dead serious. "If the change destroyed the link, it wasn't what you thought it was. They can't exist. It was a ruse and you fell for it. Break the blasted thing!" Sirius snapped.

Dazed, Dumbledore nodded and gained his feet. "Yes, of course. I'll go to the Ministry and take care of it. Then I'll implement a plan previously believed useless because of . . ." Dumbledore shook his head, bringing his eyes back into focus. "I'm sorry, dear ones," he said to Hadriel and Remus. "I'll take care of it."

After he left through the Floo, Hadriel turned and faced her godfather. "Take care of what?"

"Breaking a prophecy and killing Voldemort," Sirius replied.

"Oh!" Huh, there was a prophecy? Just her luck.

"Nobody really believes in prophecies, do they?" Hermione asked snidely. "You can't tell me that all this happened to Hadriel because of the ramblings of a mental person!"

"Prophecies are a big deal in the wizarding world, Hermione. I know Trelawney's rubbish, but some wizards and witches really can see a guaranteed future," Ron replied.

"Enough! Eat the food before it gets cold," Molly said. "Half of you could use some fattening up, too skinny by far." She clucked her tongue and Levitated a platter of sandwiches down toward Hadriel. "I made your favorite, dear."

Chicken breast with tomato and lettuce. Mmm. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Hadriel grabbed two of the sandwiches for herself and then passed a third to Remus. A house-elf had served them these sandwiches after one of her lessons in third year, so she knew her mate enjoyed them.

Remus leaned his head back and Hadriel's eyes fastened on the stretch of skin. She barely registered Remus's question. "Planning on letting go today, Padfoot? As much as we love you, you really need to take a shower."

Hadriel snickered. She had politely ignored the stench of unwashed flesh emanating from her godfather since she knew that state was her own fault. From the strength of the smell in her room, she would bet her Invisibility Cloak that Sirius had rarely—if ever—left the room the entire time she had been unconscious.

The lines around Sirius's eyes tightened for a moment, and then smoothed out. A wicked grin curved his lips. "Oi! Not all of us got the pleasure of sleeping curled around this gorgeous bird!" Sirius declared as he ruffled Hadriel's hair.

Ron slammed his hands over his ears. "Can't hear anything. Love you, mate, but I _really _don't want to know."

"I do want to know," Hermione said as she leaned forward, eyes shining with avarice. "I want to know all—"

"Not going to happen, Hermione," Hadriel replied quickly, seeing the mortified blush on Remus's face. "Don't expect details any time soon, because there won't be any. Besides, nothing happened."

Sirius grinned and spun away from them, collapsing in Dumbledore's seat as he said, "That's not entirely accurate. You might've thrashed in your sleep, rubbing against Moony, driving him insane with your alpha-y pheromones." He yelped and ducked the flying apple.

Remus glared at him and said two words, "Head Table."

Hadriel watched curiously as her godfather turned a shade of red that not even Ron could achieve. His mouth flapped open and then closed, and he kept glancing over at McGonagall nervously. "Nothing happened, Hermione. Nothing at all. They didn't even touch and they were in the same bed. Picture of decorum. Innocent. No fantasies involved."

Raucous laughter resounded through the room at that, and they settled into a lighthearted meal. Hadriel was, apparently, at number twelve, Grimmauld Place—the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters. It also happened to be a Black family property that Sirius despised with every bit of his Gryffindor soul. Having some idea of her godfather's past, Hadriel couldn't blame him.

"Why isn't he old anymore?" Heads swung to face Ginny, conversation grating to a halt at the question. She flushed, but didn't retract it. "Not that he was _old_, old, but he looks a lot younger than he did before." She stared at Hadriel and Remus's joined hands with consternation, as if the image didn't compute.

Remus squeezed Hadriel's hand before explaining. "Fenrir Greyback turned me when I was a child." He swallowed roughly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "My personality is different than Hadriel's—she's an alpha werewolf and I'm a beta. A beta wolf needs to be around an alpha wolf to be healthy, to feel safe, to have smooth and painless transformations." He whispered the last part, and the words stabbed at Hadriel. They weren't an accusation, but she still felt like she had failed her mate. "The constant knowledge that I wasn't safe caused me to age drastically."

"And now that I'm here for him that premature aging has been reversed," Hadriel concluded firmly.

"Magic's amazing," Hermione whispered.

"Mfpvg," Ron agreed through his mouthful of food.

"What does that mean? Being his alpha?" Ginny pressed. She tapped her nails against the table, but it surprisingly wasn't annoying. The constant rhythm soothed her nerves somewhat.

Hadriel looked straight into her eyes and said, "It means he's mine. Everything he is belongs to me."

"Oh!" The sound was soft, barely audible even to her ears. She gulped and blinked, hiding damp eyes. "I see." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. "Please excuse me." Ginny calmly walked out of the kitchen.

"She always thought you'd marry one of us," Ron mumbled. "She wants a sister, and she loves you like one."

"I know. I love her like a sister, too." Hadriel sighed and tugged Remus closer. "If things had been different . . . I don't know what would've happened. Things might've changed, but that's all moot now. I have all I need right here." She nuzzled her nose against Remus's cheek and inhaled deeply. Home.


End file.
